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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25596745">The first kiss, or Silenced mouth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaguya_hime/pseuds/Kaguya_hime'>Kaguya_hime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, organic webbing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:49:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25596745</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaguya_hime/pseuds/Kaguya_hime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stark is kinda late with returning the spider-costume to Peter. And Peter has his own organic webbing so he doesn't need the costume so badly. What he really needs, though, is a friend. And he accidentally got one while being costumeless.</p><p> </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; Wade Wilson, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The first kiss, or Silenced mouth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, princess, howdy!”</p><p>Peter smiles broadly in acknowledgement seeing the approaching familiar figure in red. He is kinda used to all those out of the blue nicknames Wade calls him erratically now and then.</p><p>“What's up? Why all this hurry? You missed me so terribly, that...”</p><p>“Wade, look what I got this morning with the note!..”</p><p>“Cool.” Deadpool looks at the photos on Peter’s smartphone with squinted eyes. “Congrats. You are considered worthy. A chosen one. Like, again.” He frowns and it’s visible even behind the mask. “Why aren’t you wearing it?”</p><p>Peter is in reddish loose pants and a hoodie of the same color. Not that is was very useful – he had never had any blood on him after their first meeting, and, honestly, was awfully glad about that fact. Obviously, Wade wasn’t that much of a psycho killer, right? Not the sanest, sure, but he was fun to hang around.  </p><p>“What? With GPS tracker and all those parent control options? It is probably set to record all my actions.” Peter quickly puts his phone away as if the costume might see him through the screen. “Not that I am ashamed or super-secretive… I mean we are not doing anything illegal, are we, Wade? That so-called job last week?..”</p><p>Wade grumbles something about old perverts and timeo Danaos, but doesn’t shed light on the legal status of their latest encounter.</p><p>“So I am not wearing it till I get a closer look,” Peter concludes. “May be I will be lucky tinkering with it and removing some options. I can live without unnecessary supervision.”</p><p>“Mkay... What now? Ready for some action?”</p><p>Wade sounds sour. So Peter suggests some ice-cream.</p><p> </p><p>*   *   *</p><p>“Wait, genius, are you trying to tell me that you've disassembled your new super-duper costume's web shooters to repair your old and bad ones? The ones you are not even using now? Stark will be heartbroken.” Wade grins happily.</p><p>They are on their favorite rooftop; Peter waves his hands in web shooters in front of Wade's masked face.</p><p>“Damn, Wade, the way you’ve retold it, it sounds like I am dumb or something... But look, I am not wearing the costume while it's full of trackers, and I needed those shooters. I did improve them, have used the manufactured matrix of silk dispensers to create some new patterns, to-”</p><p>Peter contemplates going into long explanations right now, because, even if Wade, of course, doesn’t give a slightest shit about the mechanics of web releasing, he still needs to tell someone, to share the joy of invention – well, may be during Wade's next insomnia cycle.</p><p>“Okay, I'll show you. Moving it clockwise you can regulate the flow, like that, and here you can modify the form of the net.” Peter makes a few shots in different directions as examples. “And this one, my favorite, the net trap, could be extremely useful when fighting your neighborhood criminals,” Peter shoots it at the nearby wall. “And that is another variety – see what I mean? I would’ve never been able to do it without those factory-made spare parts. And the best thing is I can experiment now with web fluid, think of tranquilizing one or extra sticky or even acidic one, that can melt down different substances. Hell, even being able to shoot silk dissolvent with some precision is very useful at times.”</p><p>“Aw, that’s nifty.”</p><p>And Wade is probably smiling too right now behind his mask, because Peter is definitely smiling, remembering how they first met and that Wade said exactly same phrase. It seems it was so long ago, because they, like, have known each other for ages; it’s unbelievable that less than a few months has passed.</p><p>“Yeah, I am the real thing, aint’ I? And finally with the real web shooters, too, not this damned organic embarrassment.”</p><p>Wade cocks his head and looks at Peter, expressing curiosity.</p><p>“But why you don’t like it? That’s your own mutation, it’s totally cool. And always at your hand.”</p><p>“That’s nature vs nurture argument. My own netting is still unstable, different quality of the silk on bad days, and I screw up forms of the net a lot. And demanding – but you know how is that, with drinking a lot of liquids and eating like a pig. If only I could, like, drink a few gallons of net fluid on Monday and then go till Sunday without refueling.” Peter furrows his brows. “And then, visiting physicians will always be a problem. And the need for long sleeves in summers or some lame bracelets and watches. And if I ever try, y’know, to get close to another person… It means I won’t be able to keep Spider-Man’s identity a secret… And also it is still… a disfigurement of a kind. People would think it’s gross.”</p><p>And then Peter realizes to whom he is saying all this self-pity bullshit and wishes he’d better put his fist in his stupid big mouth a moment before blurting this out. He just wants to fall through the rooftop right now without any type of his goddamn shooters whatsoever and simply disappear.</p><p>“Erhm… Wade.”</p><p>Peter shyly touches Wade’s hand and looks at Deadpool’s imperceptible mask hoping beyond hope that may be somehow, by some miraculous means, Wade is aware that Peter is not at all disturbed by Wade’s disfigurement, hell, he doesn’t even consider it to be a disfigurement in the first place, just a peculiarity – and a relatively minor one, Deadpool being Deadpool. But Wade is silent. And his own stupid spider mask predictably shows no concern nor affection, just plain nothingness that cuts other people out of his emotions, which was the reason why Wade was wearing his mask as often as possible... And at times like this, Peter simply hates all this fucking masquerade and the reasons behind it.</p><p>When an awkward pause drags out for too long Peter breathes in more air, getting ready to say something hopefully less stupid than before. But then Wade suddenly takes Peter’s hand in his, removes the new old shooter and rolls up the sleeve of Peters’ hoodie.</p><p>Wade peels off his glove and carefully reaches for Peter's wrist, traces with the tips of his fingers the swelling of the silk-producing glands, caresses it in the place where the spinnerets end up in an intricate pattern of silk spigots – three big ones with a set of a dozen smaller ones around, some of them so tiny they almost look like skin pores. Wade presses his fingers to the spot, and the touch kinda burns. Peter’s breath is caught in his throat. It is like back then when Wade saw his mutated wrists for the first time – a moment of acknowledgment, of acceptance; the same strange feeling rolls in Peter's stomach, of fear and levity and anticipation.</p><p>“Spidey, you know nothing. It’s cool. It’s beautiful,” Wade says in a quiet husky voice and then he rolls up his mask a little, just up to his nose, just enough for his scarred lips to smile, and kisses Peter’s wrist.</p><p>Peter is smitten.</p><p>The sensations the kiss sends down his spine are so intense, he bits his lips. And fucking bastard Wade is not going to stop it soon, on the contrary, Peter feels the slow movement of the hot scarred tongue on his wrist, and when the soft suction joins the caress, he pleads weakly, before something utterly personal, embarrassing and inappropriate might happen.</p><p>“Wade!.. stop!..”</p><p>The bastard knows or at least guesses about wrists being a sensitive spot and yet he is… that cruel teasing is just… He is like a kid dissecting a small animal, just because he can and because he wants to satisfy his stupid curiosity. Nobody actually cares about a frog's well-being while studying its internal organs, and painfully spasming heart. Peter all of a sudden glad he is wearing his mask.</p><p>“Let go!..”</p><p>Peter breaks his hand free.</p><p>And there is that thing lurking beyond the twitching lines of Wade's half-smile half-smirk – something so immense and terrifying, that Peter barely can breathe.</p><p>And may be Wade is aware of this thing, too, and equally afraid, because he is now trying to cover it up with his lewd grin and a stupid joke – just like he usually sweeps his garbage under the poor rug in his living room.</p><p>“Aw, lovebug, don’t tell me you were gonna come in my mouth just from that.”</p><p>Or maybe it all was just an obscene joke, no more, no less. You can never tell with Wade whether he fucks with you or is serious, Peter thinks sometimes even Wade himself doesn't know for sure.</p><p>But that did it! With a quick wrist movement Peter shuts Wade up with a precise portion of his “bodily fluids”, noticing with glee that some of it probably got inside merc’s dirty mouth.</p><p>“There! I came for you, Wade! Happy now?”</p><p>With an angry “Mm  mmmphh” Wade tries to kick him in the balls, but Peter jumps back dancing around and laughing, the overall tension finally breaking into a whirlpool of rapid movement.</p><p>“Mm mmph mphh!” Wade draws out one of his katanas and simultaneously tries to fire the web shooter he is still holding in his hand. Peter easily avoids it, jumping aside and shooting back at Wade.</p><p>“Oh, you sound just like a furious idiot, you know!..”</p><p>“Mphh mm mh!..”</p><p>“Phew, you are a rotten shot, Wade, try again!.. Ouch!.. You bastard! Wanna get another load? Take it!..”</p><p> </p><p>Fifteen minutes later panting Peter sits on top of Wade who is bound hand and foot and glued to the roof. They both are messy in splashes and strings of webbing, Peter’s mask is ruined with net fluid so he had to pull it off, and there is a long cut on his pants, but Wade has obviously been paid in full.</p><p>“Aw… Wade… that was silly... But fun!.. Hey, you still breathing in there?.. Is your nose free?”</p><p>“Mmmp…”</p><p>Peter generously moistens his fingers in saliva and rubs it in where the charred skin and the mask fabric are glued together, waits for his silk to dissolve a bit, then carefully takes Deadpool’s mask off.</p><p>Wade’s shiny eyes are laughing, and crying out insults, and whispering sinful filthy things.</p><p>Peter smiles, relieved that they are still cool. Well then, it means he can use some more of Wade's own medicine on the bastard.</p><p>“Just look at you. Gagged, bondaged and desperate.” Wade moans, paying along, and to give him credit, he is a good actor. “Are you desperate enough to beg me? To do whatever I ask?..”</p><p>Wade hums enthusiastically.</p><p>“Cool! I’ll think about my wish. Ok, wait a minute.” Peter runs to his backpack and starts rummaging through it, and he rummages through it some more and more, and then dumps all his stuff out, pens and pencils roll everywhere. “Fuck!..”</p><p>Wade opens his eyes widely but nods with even more vigor. Idiot, that's not the wish! That was about…</p><p>“Wade.” Peter looks back at Wade with eyes of a puppy that’ve just made a pool on the carpet. “Wade, I’ve left the dissolvent at home. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Mphhh mmm mphh…”</p><p>“I’ll go get it, okay?”</p><p>Wade frantically shakes his head: “Mp, mpmp, m mm mmh!”</p><p>It sounds like he is pleading. Peter sighs and puts his empty backpack under Wade’s head.</p><p>“More comfy.” Peters sits beside Wade and then grins widely. “So you don’t like being bound? I would’ve thought that bondage is kind of your thing… Gosh, why I am even asking that?..”</p><p>“M mm mm mmph mph.”  </p><p>“Oh, you don’t like to be left alone while bound. That’s understandable.”</p><p>“So, what’s our plan? Wait?”</p><p>“M m-m-m mh-mmh.”</p><p>“No way I’m doing it! And the other thing you’re thinking about – absolutely not!” Besides, it might not even work, he never tried his bodily fluids on the artificial silk. Not yet.</p><p>“Mh mph.”</p><p>“Wade. That’s stupid. This new formula will probably take ages to dissolve by itself. A few hours. A day. I haven't measured the time yet.”</p><p>Peter takes out his disguise watches from his pocket – with an extra-wide band to cover the silk glands fully. It's 6 p.m. now. Damn!</p><p> </p><p>…   6-15 p.m.</p><p>“Hey, that shin blade of yours? I might…”</p><p>“Mm!!!”</p><p>“Ah, why did you put on your new suit today, of all days. It’s not even Friday.”</p><p> </p><p>…   6-30 p.m. – 8-30 p.m.</p><p>“What do you wanna study? Chemistry, biology, physics? Nothing?.. Well, I'm gonna do it anyway, so either you listen or we keep silence. I will graduate from school this year together with Harry, and nothing stops me. Even the freaking English class. No sense in wasting more time there.”</p><p>For the next few hours Peter uses Wade as his pillow, as his phone holder, as his table and, finally, as his footrest. What? He is the winner! He reads aloud this paragraph and that, making comments and sharing his own smart ideas.</p><p>Wade tries his best to look like a freaking San Sebastian, dying and all, and when he finally becomes tired of this pretended martyrdom he simply and suddenly dozes off. Coward.</p><p>Peter sits by his side, reading silently, glancing at Wade’s peaceful face from time to time. When he is ready to violate his friend’s privacy and make a shot – Wade wakes up with a moan.</p><p>“Morning, sunshine. Feel stuck?”</p><p>Wade sighs.</p><p> </p><p>…   8-40 p.m.</p><p>“Whaddya think, will they deliver pizza on the rooftop? Or I guess I can leave you for five minutes.” Peter is searching through the website “Oh, they even have veggie smoothie, your choice, we'll manage to get the straw through”.</p><p>“Mm?” Wade suggests.</p><p>“They don't deliver beer. I can order you a cola, though. A big one?”</p><p>“Mm!” Wade’s right palm is free so he gestures for two colas.</p><p>“All right, done.”</p><p>But then Wade grins as wide as web fluid lets him and makes a very vocal and lewd suggestion “M mmm mm – mm mm mmmph...” using also his wiggling brows and moving Adams apple, god.</p><p>“What?!” Peter is appalled. “I'm not assisting you with pissing afterwards! There is no way I'm handling your – how did you say, schlong? – I'd better die starving!”</p><p>He puts away his phone and stares into Wade's baby-blue eyes. Wade looks at him sadly and slowly shakes his head. Have Peter misinterpreted him?..</p><p>“Don't make this innocent face, we both know you've <em>made</em> this suggestion! Right?!” Peter slightly jams his elbow into Wade's ribcage. “Right?..”</p><p>Wade shakes his head and emphasizes “Mm mm mmm!”</p><p>“What? Not schlong? Whatever!” Peter frowns and tries to look angry, but then gives up and giggles. “Don't tell me you said schlort!..”</p><p>Wade mumbles something in indignation.</p><p>“Ah, it's schledium!..”</p><p>“Mm!!”</p><p>They both start laughing.</p><p> </p><p>…   9 p.m.</p><p>“Wade, just why I feel this strange urge to babble without stopping? Am I afraid of silence? It that the thing with you, too?”</p><p> </p><p>…   9-10 p.m.</p><p>“Have I already told you about my teacher in kindergarten, Alice? Wanna hear?”</p><p> </p><p>…   9-20 p.m.</p><p>“Hey, try to move your arm? Damn. I'm naming it extra-long lasting.”</p><p>“M mm?”</p><p>“No, not like condom.” Peter pauses. “Shit, May. What should I tell Aunt May? Sleepover at Ned’s? I better call him first, he will cover me up. And later will be bugging me about what did I do that evening. What are we doing, Wade, really?.. Damn, the whole evening… Look – the sun is getting down.”</p><p> </p><p>…   9-30 p.m.</p><p>“At Ned’s… y’know, she probably suspects I’m seeing someone, like, I'm always out recently and all. No, she definitely does, I’ve found a pack of condoms in my coat pocket.” Peter shakes his head. “And was given a talk on teen pregnancy… Which was embarrassing as hell…”</p><p>Wade nods. He might be not that bad listener, after all, so Peter continues:</p><p>“I mean it’s a good cover story, but… I haven’t even, you know… it's not that I haven’t got any chances – I had, really… Still have maybe… I just – it might sound silly – I'm waiting for the right person. It’s worth it. I think it's important that…”</p><p>Wade nods. And close his eyes shut. And makes a pretend snoring sound.</p><p>Peter jerks out the backpack from under Wade’s head and starts collecting his stuff, seething.</p><p> </p><p>…   10 p.m.</p><p>“Shit, if only I didn’t tell Aunt May that I was staying at Ned’s! He might have brought us that fucking dissolvent by now!.. Not that he would be happy to see me with you again...”</p><p> </p><p>…  10-20 p.m.</p><p>“Wade, you cold? It’s getting cold."</p><p>They lie side by side, heads resting on Peter’s backpack, looking at the darkening sky in silence. Peter can distinguish, though, with his new acute hearing the sounds of Wade’s presence: lub-dubs of his strong heart, white noise of running blood, how Wade blinks, evenly breathes in and out and sometimes swallows and, no super-abilities needed here, the loud rumbling of his stomach. Wade is not asleep, yet he doesn’t do anything, - mostly because he can’t – he is just there, present. Peter is strangely overwhelmed with this sensation.  </p><p>The city lights are too strong yet some spare stars, those tiniest breaches in the universal lonely prison, starts twinkling their inaudible melody.</p><p>Peter draws closer to Wade, whose body is burning like a small furnace.</p><p>“Wade?”</p><p>“Mm?”</p><p>“I guess I miss your talking.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Initially it was a chapter of my bigger longer and uncut fic, but it doesn't fit now.</p><p>This longer story is <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/19444702">here</a><br/>It looks abandoned, but I'm still working on it albeit slowly.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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